Generations
by instinct2kn3
Summary: A first installment of a promising tale


Generations  
  
The squawk of the alarm clock awoke the sleeping body. Moving sluggishly, an arm reached out and the probing fingers groped for the snooze button. After the sound was silenced the body went limp, and then with a deep groan, the body rose. The man reached down to his drawers and began to get dressed.  
  
Birds were singing as the man made his breakfast and ate it at a leisurely pace. The postman dropped off the mail through the mail slot in the front door. Glancing up at the clock, the man realizes that he is late for work. Wolfing down his breakfast, he grabs his jacket and briefcase. As he races to the door, he grabs his car keys and heads out the front door.  
  
With time as his foe, he races to his car and jumps in. Due to it's care, the car starts instantaneously as the man turned the ignition. Tires screeching in protest, the guy reverses out the driveway and zooms down the road like a Grand Prix racer trying to catch up.  
  
Within minutes the guy arrives at the school where he teaches and he heads inside. He jogs down the empty corridors and heads into his empty classroom.  
  
'Odd.' Thinks the man, until he realizes that its a Sunday. 'Great. Oh well, I'm up.' He thinks bitterly to himself.  
  
He walks back to his car and hops in and drives slowly back to his house. He arrives without incident and he grabs the mail he ignored.  
  
"Bill. Bill. Junk." He mutters as he flicks through his mail. "Hey, what's this?" He asks himself as he discovers a beige envelope addressed to him.  
  
Tossing the envelope onto his kitchen table, the man proceeds to make himself a strong coffee. The jug started boiling the water as the man prepared his Sunday mug. Glancing around the man discovers that his house is in a bit of a mess.  
  
Forgetting about the coffee and the envelope, he starts clearing up the clutter in his organized house. It is an easy job for him as he cleans his own house regularly. After half an hour and the jug had well and truly boiled, the young teacher walked back into the kitchen and continued making his coffee.  
  
While the jug reboiled, he examined the envelope carefully. The envelope was smooth to the touch. There was no postage stamp or any stamp on it for that matter. No return address was on the back, and the writing was eloquent. It looked as if it had been written by a quill, and a long time ago, judging by the aged look to the envelope and writing.  
  
Curious, the man carefully opened the envelope and pulled out several pieces of paper. It was obviously a letter, but how could anyone know where he lives. He wasn't listed in the phone book. He had only just moved in, so how could anyone knows he lives at that address. But there it lay, a simple beige envelope addressed to, 'Mr L. Greenhorn, 83 Willoughby Ave, West Hollywood, Los Angeles'.  
  
Scared and a little confused, Liam Greenhorn reached out and began to read the letter from the very beginning, not knowing his life is in danger from anyone. He has a very small chance of living, and by the minute that chance was getting smaller and smaller. So in the silence of his organized kitchen, he began to read about the tale of the author. 'In every race there are three types of people. The people who are willing to fight the people doing the bad. Then there are the people who look out only for themselves. Same to with Vampires, though it is extremely rare, for a vampire to do good, as they are perceived as evil bloodsuckers.  
  
When I was changed, I felt there was a higher purpose for me to become something other than just another bloodsucker. For a century of feasting upon the criminals of the human world, I noticed that with each live I took, mine became better. I could jump a bit further, my eyes picked up just a bit more detail as I walked around. I could hear the lightest of footsteps apart from my brethren. I could smell more than a human. My body was becoming more resilient.  
  
The Indians and 'barbaric' people as they are often referred to as, believed that if you ate the eyes of the enemy, you could see through their eyes. They weren't far from the truth. Though, contrary to the popular belief that we drank the blood, it wasn't so. True, the blood did enter our bodies, but we didn't swallow. Our fangs, you see, are hollow, and the pressure from the heart pushed the blood up into our mouths and the blood would disperse. Like adding water to a hot pan, it would cool it for a while, until the pan became reheated.  
  
Now, as a Vampire I could see more than the average human, apart from the magic users. I would stalk through the cemetery to watch the spirits of the departed roam the earth once more. One night as the new moon sat vigilant, I saw a remarkable sight. An angel. A creature of truly unequaled beauty. I couldn't see it's face as the light emanating from the angel was too bright. My ears could hear a soft harmony being hummed by a chorus of angels I couldn't see.  
  
"Night Creature." The angel said to me, "you have a journey ahead of you. God needs a champion and you have been chosen."  
  
"Why me, I am a Creature of the Undead. I feed upon the living without remorse or pity. Why would God ask a soulless creature like me to be his Champion?" I asked, confused.  
  
"Because of your decisions. Despite being presented with the choice of slaying the innocent, you slayed the guilty instead. Also, your life before the change, as a farmer was one of respect to the land and to the people who slandered you." Replied the angel calmly.  
  
"I don't have a choice, do I?" I ask with a slight smile on my face.  
  
"Of course, everyone has a choice, but this isn't a choice you must make. It is your life you must live." Explains the angel.  
  
"So, in effect, I haven't got a choice?" I inquire still confused.  
  
"You can choose to be the person you are meant to be, or you can fight your natural instincts. That choice is yours and yours alone."  
  
After those words, the Angel left without a look back. Still confused I wandered the cemetery trying to figure out what my destiny is, and why it is mine alone.  
  
Hours passed, and the sun started to rise once more. With as much speed as I had in my body at that point in time, I ran to a house and broke in. I found a room and closed the curtains, and barricaded the door until night fell once more.  
  
I kept thinking of what that Angel was meaning about me having to do this, even though I have a choice not to do it. Time flew past as I tried to decipher any hidden message, but to no avail.  
  
Night once more embraced the earth and I walked once again. Still I was bothered by this predicament I was in. Other vampires nodded as I walked past. There are several unwritten rules about being a vampire. You must respect your brethren. You must not slay another vampire under any circumstance. Do not disturb a vampire while he is feeding..  
  
Following my feet, I found myself in a slum. A favorite stalking ground of mine. There were many petty thieves and burglars, until I felt hungry. The thirst which plagues our kind began to itch my throat and I knew it was time that this thirst was quenched.  
  
With luck, or a sick twist of fate, I found a meal. A cocky white male was 'asking' his 'girlfriend' to put out. The girl had obviously heeded the warnings about the darkened alleys, like the one they were in at that point in time. So thirsty, I failed to notice a flicker of movement behind me.  
  
With a casual hop, I jumped and then started climbing to the top of the building the guy had his back against. I practically ran up the bricks, unaware of my 'friend'.  
  
I then glided down the fire escape to about where the man was. Reaching out, I managed to grab his neck and pull him up to me. So I feed, while hanging upside down, his body beginning the twitch of a corpse as his 'girlfriend' ran, screaming murder.  
  
Just before I finished my meal, I felt a tap on the sole of my foot. Stopping from my meal, I looked up and saw a vampire standing there with a large grin on his face. It was then I realized my mistake. When a vampire feeds, he passes along some saliva which attracts the blood to the wound and seals it over. But if a vampire withdraws his teeth during a meal, the saliva attacks the blood completely destroying it, creating a vampire that knows only one thing. To feed. He must bring blood back into his system to counteract the effects of the saliva's control on his mind.  
  
I dropped the body and fled. There was nothing that could be done. The vampire couldn't be slain until there was a sufficient amount of blood in his system.'  
  
Stopping there, Liam reaches over and drinks some more of his coffee.  
  
"Interesting story, but what does this have to do with me?" He asks aloud.  
  
At this point Liam's cat enters the dining room, and looks up at him.  
  
Tensing its calf muscles the cat jumps onto the table and rubs against the mans face.  
  
"Ah, Cleo. What you doing here, cat?" Says Liam, with a smile on his face.  
  
The cat traipses over to the letter, and sits down on the corner of the paper.  
  
"Reow." Says the cat.  
  
"I'll read it later."  
  
"Reow, reow?"  
  
"Fine, I'll read some more."  
  
'Knowing that no-one would believe and scared for my life, I fled. Looking back now, I realize it was my greatest mistake. I should've followed him and slay him at the first opportune moment. As I had no friends of which to speak of, my disappearance wasn't noticed for many nights. During that time, I had fed properly on the 'scum' of the world, making sure I got every damn drop.  
  
Like I mentioned before, the more lives I took the better mine became. Soon I became known as a Day Stalker, a Vampire that could withstand the heat of the sun. At first, it was difficult to adjust to, the light, but eventually I got used to it. I started to live life as 'normal'. Since I didn't need sleep or food, I decided to get a job. My first job was ...'  
  
Liam stops reading as his telephone rings. The cat seem to roll it's eyes as Liam gets up to answer the phone.  
  
"Hello?" Liam asks.  
  
"..." There is no reply apart from the sound of heavy regular breathing.  
  
"Hello? Who is this?" Liam asks, slightly angry.  
  
"..." The breathing gets heavier and faster.  
  
"Look, I'll call the." Starts Liam before the other end slams down.  
  
Unsure of what actually just happened, Liam hangs the phone up slowly, slightly scared.  
  
"Could?" Liam asks, while looking at the letter, as if it was going to answer his question. The analogue clock ticks overhead as Liam tries to figure out if there is any connection. A smile stretches over his face, as Liam realizes one important factor.  
  
'For the caller to be aware of this, he must be a Vampire. So there goes that! Everyone knows Vampires don't exist, they are simply works of fiction.'  
  
Forgetting the letter, Liam continues his Sunday routine, he ensures that the house is spotlessly clean, then he goes for his weekly jog of 3 miles. Halfway through, Liam slows down. He gets a nagging feeling in his gut. He can't help but try to shake the feeling that someone is watching him. Stopping, Liam looks around for anything to confirm his suspicions. There was an elderly couple walking along the street. A couple of cars parked in the street. A man staring directly at him. Apprehensive, Liam takes an instinctive step back, as the man starts walking towards him.  
  
Horrified, Liam can't help but watch as the man increases his gait. Then before the man can grab him, Liam turns and runs the rest of the way home. Not caring for traffic, Liam causes three separate incidents. There was a head on collision in which no-one was seriously injured. The second incident induced a woman into labor, giving birth to a beautiful young boy. The third incident paralyzed a promising NFL player.  
  
The rest of the run is a blur as Liam races home. Too scared to look back, Liam doesn't deviate from his course. Within minutes, Liam unlocks his front door, and slams it behind him, locking it securely. Panting for breath, Liam wonders who that man was, and if the people in the cars are alive.  
  
After he catches his breath, Liam slumps at the table, and notices the letter.  
  
"Well, what can the harm be?" Liam asks rhetorically.  
  
His blue eyes scan through what he has already read, when he notices a new piece of paper.  
  
'This may warrant any questions that you have, Liam. The way a vampire feeds is only slightly similar to the ways portrayed by Hollywood. First of all, yes, we have fangs. But we don't suck the blood to drink it. The pressure from the beating heart causes it to flow into our fangs, which for this reason are hollow. The blood is then dispersed throughout our minds and our bodies. Through the blood we learn our victim's habits, and memories. To keep the cause of death a mystery, our saliva actually heals the wounds we cause as it dries out once all the blood is gone.  
  
However, like I mentioned before, if a Vampire is disturbed whilst feeding, the saliva destroys the blood cells in the meal, and another Vampire arises.  
  
As a newborn Vampire, senses are heightened to an unparalleled level with other humans. Our ears can detect a pin dropped several blocks away. Our eyes can see any item on the horizon. Our noses are as sensitive and as powerful as an alsation. Though, we cannot taste for we do not 'eat'. Our strength is greater than a fully grown bear. Our skin is as tough as steel. Due to these strengths, garlic assails us. The sun burns our uncovered skin. The cross is a myth. It was actually a ruse so that you mortals can live your lives with little fear, unless we are extremely thirsty, then the ruse is forgotten, and the cross is stolen. Running water dizzies us, as many things float past, as a hunter, movement attracts our attention, and when you can see every individual pebble and fish move about at rapid pace all around the riverbed, you too, would feel the dizzying effects.'  
  
'Well... that's interesting.' Liam thinks to himself.  
  
Finding his spot again on the letter, Liam resumes his intriguing read as his entire world start to crumble.  
  
'My first job was as a waiter. It was at a sleazy restaurant. The chef was a slob. The pay was meager at best. The food preparation would've made the health inspector order a citywide evacuation. The hygiene was nonexistent. For the first time, since the change, I killed and fed without feeling the bloodthirst. I 'closed' the restaurant and spent three solid days cleaning it. The worst of all was the kitchen. That took two solid days to bring up to scratch. 


End file.
